


Little Birds

by Doitsuki



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Action/Adventure, Birds, Character Development, Early Days, Eventual Romance, Experimental, Friendship, M/M, Magic, Nature, Plans, Quest, Ravens, Teen Angst, Time Travel, Transformation, more age twisting fun, old man khadgar, small brat and exasperated archmage, teenage mutant ninja medivh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-19 16:13:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8216333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitsuki/pseuds/Doitsuki
Summary: Khadgar has a plan, as usual, to defeat the Burning Legion. He goes back in time to see if he can disrupt Gul'dan's earliest plans before the orcs even arrive on Azeroth, and requires Medivh's help. Medivh, the newly woken, child-in-man's-body Guardian. Shenanigans ensue.





	1. we dem boyz

**Author's Note:**

> pretty much the equivalent of warcraft questing, lord of the rings style. long walks in the forest and a few interesting moments and r a v e n t r u s t. lil bit of emotional material be warned - and if there's smut, it's gonna be on consensual, thought-out terms

Medivh had been living in Karazhan for the last seven months. After a brief meeting with the Tirisfalen, the Council of Six and more than one concerned priest, he’d retreated to the tower for a bit of privacy. Everyone was always trying to get up in his business, the very same business he tried to distract himself from day by day. It was too emotional. Too… _illogical_.

Currently, he was in the middle of studying good, wholesome arcane energy in its most primal form, given sentience as a five foot tall elemental. Up in the observatory, Medivh ran his fingers over the construct’s glimmering purple head and pressed in a bit. The elemental grunted at him.

“What? Does that hurt?”

The elemental shook its head. “Pain does not exist.”

“Not for you, certainly.” Medivh patted the elemental and then coiled bright white energy around it, forming a collar and set of manacles. “Alright, try casting again.”

The construct floated back and created an orb in its clawed hands, though it was a little dim in comparison to the one it had made minutes prior.

“I cannot access my full strength.”

“Interesting…. Very interesting indeed.” Medivh turned to the open spellbook he had sitting on the nearby curved table and flicked his left hand. An enchanted quill jumped up, twirled around and wrote down his thoughts. The elemental watched with no expression on its skinless, boneless face, though Medivh liked to think it was a little jealous of his power. Every living practitioner of magic had to be, for Medivh was the Guardian and contained more power than everyone in Dalaran combined. Or so he felt, anyway. Every day, Medivh had to expend the mana in his body so as not to feel it building up and pressuring him to cast dangerously. Whenever he manipulated fire, for instance, he infused it with the arcane and was tempted far too often to turn everything in sight to ash. Always he was invigorated with a sense of complete power – rightfully so – and always he had to control it, as the clerics had told him on the day he’d regained consciousness. Medivh remembered that day and scowled. There was something he did not understand – or rather, he did, but did not like it one bit. Almost twenty-one years ago, he had fallen asleep a fourteen year old mage with friends, family and eventually, a fever. Only recently had he awoken to find himself a man in his mid thirties, without the wisdom and life experience to match. Having only been conscious for his childhood and early adolescence, it was understandable that he had not yet learned how to act as an adult, but for some reason it was expected of him at once. King Llane and his champion Anduin Lothar had greeted Medivh not with relief and jests, but with concern, fear and sadness in their eyes. And they looked tired. So very tired. Medivh only remembered going to see his father and then collapsing… and then waking up with near unrecognizable men surrounding him. As the memories came, Medivh pushed them back. No. Now was not the time to remember. He had studies to work on, and his elemental was waiting for further instruction, always patient, never intrusive. Medivh looked at it.

“How do you feel about those?” He gestured to the rough, stone-hewn manacles that had been created by his thought alone. Already, he could form physical and elemental matter out of raw energy. The elemental didn’t look too impressed.

“Feelings do not exist.”

“Oh?” Medivh leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. The sleeves of his dark red robes spilled over and onto the floor, making him look like he sat in a pile of curtains. “What if I told you that you were absolutely _useless_? What would you feel then?”

“You have not done so, so I would not know.” said the construct. Medivh grit his teeth.

“Damn you! I gave you sentience for a reason, and it definitely wasn’t to be such an idiot.”

The elemental looked at him with empty, white eyes. It didn’t seem to be holding any breath or crafting a witty retort. Medivh sighed. It didn’t even feel the need to apologise – thus, he had failed at creating a completely intelligent being.

“Bah. Off with you.” Medivh gestured and the elemental nodded, floating off through the observatory’s doorway and down the stairs. Karazhan had a set of grey stone stairs spiraling around the inside of the tower, and in places gave way to balconies along the outer walls. Up here in the observatory, there was an open section of the wall where a small platform with no railings jutted out. Medivh had been told he could blow a whistle and call gryphons to the platform if he wished to fly anywhere, but so far he had not tested it out. He had no desire to leave Karazhan. All his needs were catered to here, physical and magical alike. He tried not to think about the emotional ones. The Guardian had no use for such things.

Medivh turned back to his spellbook and picked up the black-feathered quill, absently drawing swirly patterns until the ink began to thin. He dipped it in the dark purple ink he had floating in a ball above a small dish, and sighed. Boredom took him more often than not. He usually occupied himself with the pursuit of knowledge, wanting to know everything, but rarely knew where to start. If he did not know something, he likely did not know where to look for information on it. And that bothered him, that there were things in existence that he was completely ignorant of. Just as he considered perusing one of the many random tomes in the library downstairs, he felt a change in the wind. Odd, because the observatory was ensorcelled to prevent the weather outside from bothering anything within. Medivh glanced to see a small black raven, no more than three years old by the looks of it, gliding to land in the center of the room. Its tiny clawed nails clicked against the polished marble floor, and in its eyes Medivh could see the intelligence that marked its kind. The Guardian smiled.

“Hello there. What can I do for you?” He did not know this one, but many ravens came to Karazhan and perhaps this one had been informed of the tower’s benefits by a friend. Free food was always good. The bird hopped forwards and said,

“Meep meep.”

Medivh’s smile faded just a little. It did not speak in the language of all birds, nor in any specific dialect. It just… beeped at him? He tilted his head to the side, the motion more birdlike than human.

“We… have not met before, have we?”

The raven raised its wings instead of answering, and before Medivh’s eyes it began to transform. Black feathers swirled and elongated around a growing, central figure wielding a stick. No, not a stick, but a staff identical to the one Medivh had leaning on the nearest bookshelf. Suddenly the illusory winds dispersed and standing before Medivh was an older man, broad shouldered and strong looking with wisdom in his bright blue eyes. He dusted off his sand and sea colored robes, then gazed at Medivh with a look of barely restrained longing.

“We have.”

“!!” Medivh shot out of his chair and raised a hand, calling Atiesh to him before glancing at the stranger’s staff, then back at his own. “Why… why do you have my staff?! Who are you?”

“Oh, don’t _attack_ me, Medivh! I can already see you ready to blast me into oblivion. Calm down.” The stranger raised one hand but cast no spell from it. Medivh, with purple chain links waving like tentacles around him and immense power radiating from his glowing white hands, narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t you tell me to calm down! What are you doing in my tower?!”

The older man inclined his head with a disarming smile on his clean shaven face. “I am Archmage Khadgar, and I need your help.”

Medivh sneered. “Never heard of you. Get out.”

Khadgar looked stricken. “Come now, won’t you let me explain what I’m here for?”

“Don’t care. You’re from the Kirin Tor, aren’t you?”

Khadgar took a moment and then nodded. “Yes, but from the future. I mean you no harm, Medivh, honestly-”

Medivh tilted his head up, Atiesh glowing softly as he sniffed. “I have a title, _Archmage_ , and would have you use it.”

“Hm..” In a moment of deep thought, Khadgar drew gloved fingers across his chin. “Guardian, the world is in peril.”

“In the future, maybe. Not my problem. I’ll deal with it later.” Medivh shifted his weight, distinctly uncomfortable with the way Khadgar looked at him. A million questions circled his mind, and they were dangerous, frightful things. “I don’t have time for this. Leave me alone.”

Khadgar frowned, suddenly asking “How long have you been living here?”

“Less than a year – hey! You don’t get to interrogate me, I’m telling you, _piss off!_ ” Medivh waved his staff around menacingly but Khadgar only nodded in confirmation of his own thoughts.

“Of course… you are still young. Guardian, I apologize. I know this must be upsetting.”

Medivh became aware then that Khadgar knew of his history, despite being from a different timeline. He’d probably read about it in a book or something, he couldn’t possibly know Medivh personally… as the Guardian stood still, Khadgar began to explain.

“I come from a time when Azeroth is about to be invaded by the Burning Legion, for the third time. There are no Guardians any more, only two warring races, and I fear it will mean destruction for us all. I come seeking not your advice, but your assistance. There is an artifact deep under the sea that will be stolen in the years to come, and it is one of the things I believe can help defeat the Legion.”

Medivh glared at Khadgar. “I don’t know how to swim.”

“We won’t _need_ to! It’s just a matter of raising some islands, undoing some protective wards and sneaking into a tomb. I have a plan. And my plans always work.” Khadgar gave a thumbs up to the disbelieving Guardian, whose magic had started to creep back into his body. Medivh wasn’t sure if Khadgar was going to attack him or not, and the things he spoke of were disarmingly curious. Everything about Khadgar was somehow reassuring – he wasn’t pressing Medivh to trust him, he wasn’t ordering him to help, he was asking and giving good reasons why… without radiating the aura of deception Medivh knew so well. The Archmage really didn’t seem like he was trying to get anything out of Medivh save a bit of help for his future world. But still, Medivh was wary. He’d been sweet-talked by the Kirin Tor before. His own nature to do what he liked had saved him from bending to their whims numerous times, even if it meant they thought less of him as a person. Often he felt nobody saw him as a human being with impulses and needs. Just the Protector of the Realm. It made his chest ache.

Khadgar pointed Atiesh at Medivh. “Also, this staff is the same as yours. Just from a different time.”

“Why do you have it?” asked the Guardian, taking a step forwards. “Did you steal it?”

“Nope.” Khadgar offered it to Medivh, who grabbed it and felt its power innately. “You disappeared at some point and never returned. I figured you weren’t going to need it, after leaving it behind in Karazhan…”

“And what were you doing in Karazhan?” Medivh now wielded two staves and Khadgar only knew his own by the red string tied to the tip.

“You and I were good friends.” said Khadgar, sadness seeping into his gentle voice. “In this world… I hope we still will be.”

Medivh squinted. “You make me wonder many things, Archmage. Something’s not right about you.”

“Of course not.” said Khadgar, shrugging openly. “But I still need your help.”

Medivh threw Khadgar’s staff back at him, scowling. “I don’t wanna.” When the Archmage was silent, baffled, by the look on his face, Medivh continued. He had as much a proclivity for ranting as his mother. “You think you can come in here, bypass my wards, say some stuff and expect me to follow you into the middle of the ocean to find a thing?” In his anger he forgot to keep up the pretense of being a mature, scholarly wizard. Why should he, in his own home, facing a complete stranger? “You called it a relic. I bet you don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s the scepter of Sargeras.” said Khadgar softly. Medivh paused, but when Khadgar only kept looking at him with those huge, sad eyes, Medivh clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to feel for this man. For anyone.

“So? Whoever this Sargeras is doesn’t mean a single thing to me, and for that matter, neither do you. Why would I even _consider_ leaving Karazhan to go on some quest with a weird looking guy like you?” Khadgar didn’t even look like an Archmage – too muscular, or so he seemed under his thick traveling robes. Every spellcaster known to Medivh was slim and weary from how expertly they wielded their magics. By the way Khadgar looked, he must be a pretty shit wizard. “Seriously.”

Khadgar blinked. Holding Atiesh close to his chest, he looked hesitant and far too vulnerable for someone of his age and status. He then turned his face away, giving Medivh a nice view of his rather handsome profile.

“I suppose…” he muttered, voice thick and worn with stress Medivh hadn’t heard before, “I could find someone more… capable…”

“Hah! Good luck.” Medivh snorted. “No-one’s more capable than me. I’m the Guardian, and I can do _anything_.”

“Hmph. I bet you can’t raise islands.” said Khadgar, lights circling the tip of his staff as he willed it. “Or create solid water-breathing enchantments.”

“Hey!” Medivh immediately caused fancier lights, stars, even, to rotate around his own staff. “I totally can!”

“Have you tried?” Khadgar spoke with arrogance now, though it pained him to act so. “Hah, I’d like to see you _try_. But no, I wouldn’t want to see you end up drowning, not the famed Guardian of Azeroth, no. I should go to Dalaran. Excuse me.” He turned around and drew his energies together, and for what purpose it was not immediately clear but Medivh shot a silencing spell out at once.

“No!” Medivh crossed the room and despite being a caster before a fighter, grabbed at the back of Khadgar’s robes. His fingers found a leather dog collar around the man’s neck, and it was better for him to tug at than any fabric, surely. Khadgar made an involuntary choking sound and released his power, suddenly blasting Medivh’s hand and arm back away from touching him. Medivh stumbled into his armchair and slumped down, aghast.

_‘Holy shit. He’s powerful.’_

Khadgar turned around, regret deep in his eyes. “I am sorry, Guardian. But my mission is urgent, and if you wish to fight me, it will be a waste of time I cannot afford.”

Medivh stood, youthful determination twisting his middle-aged face. “I will come with you. For Azeroth.”

Khadgar nodded with great pride filling his heart. “For Azeroth.”


	2. Off we go

Shortly after his decision to join Khadgar, Medivh turned around to see a figure lurking behind the observatory’s half-open door.

“Moroes! I’m going on an adventure!”

Moroes stepped into the light and stared at Khadgar. He then turned to Medivh.

“With all due respect, Guardian… consider caution on your travels. You walk with a complete stranger, one who wields incredible strength--”

“Yeah, yeah. Can you pack some things for me? Oh!” Medivh glanced at Khadgar, excitement lighting up his gaunt face. “What should I bring?”

“Something to eat, definitely.” Khadgar could see Medivh had not yet recovered his full physical strength, something that would take a few years of good food and running around the tower. “Your spellbook, Atiesh, uh… clothes and other things can be conjured…” He looked around. “A few strong mana potions. And that should be it.”

“You heard him!” Medivh gestured and Moroes went off to gather things. The Guardian relaxed in his armchair, picking up his spellbook. The most recent scribbles in it were dry and he could turn the pages without disturbing anything. He then looked up to see Khadgar peering in. “Oi.”

Khadgar grinned sheepishly. “Just curious.”

“The things I study could tear you to pieces.” said Medivh, resisting the urge to poke his tongue out at the Archmage. “Just before, I was making an intelligent elemental.”

Khadgar raised his brows, conjuring up a quick seat for himself. “Beyond the basics of memory, obedience and spellcasting?”

“Uh huh. I tried to make it mad, but clearly I’m too nice, eh?” Medivh ran slim fingers through his long, dark brown hair. Khadgar looked rather amused as he informed the Guardian that elementals could never feel. Medivh narrowed his eyes. “What? But I’ve _seen_ them. There was a lady from the Kirin Tor with a construct that showed compassion and grief.”

“A learned behaviour.” said Khadgar, leaning his elbows on his knees. “True emotion requires a complete recreation of a primal, conscious brain and there are so many little impulses that become variable in the process – it’s impossible. I’ve tried.”

“Just because you can’t do it, doesn’t mean _I_ can’t.” Medivh folded his arms, leaving his spellbook shut in his lap. Khadgar sighed.

“It is quite a task to emulate emotion, you know. Arcane familiars are the only ones of their kind who can even come close to it. You need a sentience core to build upon, like this.” He took out a lavender crystal with pink lights flickering inside from the satchel at his hip. “This took me a year to make, here in Karazhan. It was a lot faster than my attempts in other locations.”

“Because of the ley lines, obviously.”

“Yes. Watch this.” Khadgar let the crystal hover beside him and then whispered, _“Aran Arcana.”_ His old, faithful elemental servant formed around the crystal and it looked at Khadgar with bright white eyes.

“It’s good to see you again.”

Medivh gasped, leaning forwards. “It speaks unprompted?”

“Only to me.” Khadgar rested his hand on the elemental’s head, and the construct purred quietly. “See, we don’t know whether or not it feels happy to see me, only that it says so. One might assume that it _does_ feel, without having knowledge of how elementals work.”

The servant was used to being a teaching tool and did not mind being spoken about in such a manner. In truth, it did not mind anything at all. It had no emotions. But Khadgar had taught it how to behave almost human, to the point of being able to display faux-annoyance when it was guiding people around and the people wandered off. Medivh did not want to admit it, but he was impressed. The subtle motions of the construct’s hands were humane, too. There were no constantly flexing fingers, just a natural, easy stillness. Khadgar had clearly put a lot of work into it, and the sentience core that expanded its capabilities. He beckoned to the elemental, but it did not move. Its eyes were thin slits as Khadgar continued petting it.

“Come here.” said Medivh, and Khadgar bade the elemental approach him with a thought. The construct floated over and looked at Medivh, the same height as him while seated. Medivh flicked it in the forehead and the thing actually recoiled, a hiss echoing from its body. It turned to Khadgar and whined. Khadgar met Medivh’s gaze.

“Why did you do that?”

“A test. It really does seem like it feels.” Medivh shook his head. “But if it doesn’t, then there’s no harm in experimenting.”

“So you say,” Khadgar muttered, recalling his servant and furrowing his brows “But it is designed to invoke an empathic response, not disregard.”

“It’s not an intelligent being, Archmage.”

“But it is mine.” Khadgar stood and his elemental grew in size to reach his chest height. Alarmed, Medivh rose and flipped open his spellbook to a glowing sigil. At that moment, Moroes returned with a small brown pouch that had a few mana potions inside along with miniaturised travel rations. He could do a few magic tricks of his own, too. Upon seeing imminent combat, he facepalmed. Medivh heard the _plap_ of his palm against his forehead and turned.

“A…ah, Moroes. We’re not fighting, I swear!”

“Whatever you say.” Moroes offered the pouch which Medivh took and clipped to his belt. His robes disguised its presence. “Please be safe.”

Medivh nodded, and then looked to Khadgar who had dismissed his servant and was putting the crystal back in his satchel. “I’m ready.”

“Right.” Khadgar tapped the base of his staff against the floor. “We shall fly to the Tranquil Gardens, and from there we must walk. It is the easiest way to avoid sorcerous detection.”

“Detection? Is someone looking for you?” Medivh’s suspicions flared at this and the sound of heading towards a cemetery. Khadgar shrugged.

“Could be. I didn’t feel anyone follow me through time but I’m not the only one with this ability in the future. Things could happen, and it’s best to be safe.”

“Alright, then.” Medivh pushed his spellbook into the array of straps that would keep it attached to his belt, and then tugged his loose robes tighter around his body. “Uh… wait. I should probably change into something else if we’re going to be walking.” He made a few gestures and his robes went from silk to cotton, taking the shape of a form-fitting tunic that matched his dark red breeches. He’d not been wearing any shoes and Moroes seemingly produced a pair out of nowhere, tall black boots that would survive the journey. Medivh hurriedly tied up his long hair with a conjured arcane ribbon and gripped his staff. “Now.”

“Now.” Khadgar agreed. The two took raven form at exactly the same time, and Khadgar flew off leaving Medivh to follow. Moroes watched the two leave, shaking his head.

_‘I have a bad feeling about this.’_

 

~

 

Medivh and Khadgar flew from Karazhan across the Deadwind Pass, Khadgar in a straight line and Medivh circling around. The Guardian’s excitement would’ve caught Khadgar had he not been so set on finding solid ground as soon as possible. When he’d left Dalaran in the future, hovering above the Broken Isles, the entire Kirin Tor had been watching him. Not with their eyes, but with their detection spells. Kalecgos had told him days before his journey: _They do not trust you_. Khadgar had waved him off with a smile and continued to be his usual, eccentric self. But inside, Khadgar knew he needed to travel with utmost secrecy. Just about everyone frowned on traveling through time to fix the present’s horrors by preventing them in the past. Khadgar had been approached by quite a few dragons warning him to stop fucking around, and he’d promised last time that after Draenor, he had no more intentions of messing with the past. But here he was, before the Dark Portal was even a thought, flying with an excited and oblivious Medivh towards a dark, spooky cemetery. At least the undead did not exist yet. Khadgar had chosen this time well.

Over tall grey mountains that would’ve been a pain in the ass to navigate around on foot, the two ravens flew. It was late in the afternoon when they descended into the Tranquil Gardens, lush green grass rising up to greet the swooping birds. Both men took human form and Khadgar ran his fingers back through his silvery white hair.

“Right, then. We follow this road West.” Khadgar pointed to the cobblestone path just ahead of where he and Medivh stood. The Guardian blinked.

“Are you serious? We’re not going to get some mounts from Grand Hamlet and ride?”

“I did say we would be walking.” Khadgar gestured with his staff. “Come on. A bit of legwork never hurt anyone.”

Medivh bristled, unwilling but seeing little choice. Khadgar set an easy pace that Medivh followed, completely unaware of the Guardian’s inner turmoil. Medivh had not walked any lands outside of the Deadwind Pass since his awakening, and his legs were used to solid stairs, not uneven ground. Staying to the path was easy enough but Medivh knew he would tire along the way, well aware of his minimal endurance. He did not wish to appear weak, not after Khadgar had made him sound so… disposable in regards to his magical strength.

 _‘I’ll show him. I can do anything._ ’

After five minutes of pushing down his concerns, Medivh poked Khadgar in the back with the tip of Atiesh.

“So tell me about your plan.”

Khadgar nodded. “We follow this road west until we pass into Westfall. Then we go north, past Sentinel Hill to the shore near the hills south of Stormwind.”

“Can we go to Stormwind?” Medivh asked, then regretted his impulsive question. Llane and Anduin weren’t as he remembered them. They would be busy. He bit his bottom lip.

“I’m afraid not.” Khadgar said, eyes fixed on the path before them. Tall, healthy trees filled the forest and there were no unnatural sounds or scents that caught his attention. “You and I must focus on our task if we are to succeed. Though I am not known to anyone in this time, if anyone from the future is looking for me, there might be detection wards near the city.”

“Who could _possibly_ be looking for you? You make it sound as if you’re doing something wrong…” Medivh squinted. “Are you?”

“In the eyes of others, perhaps.” The Archmage used his staff like a hiking stick, the steady clack of its base against the path matching his footsteps. “There are some who believe the past should not be altered to preserve the future. But things have become so desperate in the future that I have found myself with little choice. Either face the guilt of doing nothing against the Burning Legion, or take the risk of coming here and doing my best to save Azeroth.”

“Huh.” Medivh glanced about in that sharp, birdlike manner of his. “But you said there wasn’t a Guardian. It honestly sounds like that’s what you’re trying to be.”

Khadgar stopped walking and turned to Medivh. “Please do not say that ever again.”

“Why?” Curious, Medivh flashed a devilish smile at his companion. “Ooh, did I strike a nerve?”

“No.” Khadgar lied only to prevent himself from reliving the anguish of last seeing Medivh in Karazhan, hoping for his advice, and ending up blasting a dreadlord out the window. “It is merely an incorrect statement, for I do not possess the power of a Guardian and have few ties to the Tirisfalen.”

Medivh gasped. “You know of them! They’re supposed to be secret, we even have a cipher for our mail, you…”

“I’ve read your mail.” Khadgar said, and continued to walk. “Don’t worry. The Tirisfalen are the least of our worries.”

Medivh was shocked into silence for a few moments, before hurriedly trying to pick up the conversation.

“Good. I can’t be bothered with any more of their stupid requests.”

Khadgar smiled. “Everyone wants something from the Guardian of Azeroth. But you always have a choice.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Medivh absently cast a bit of magic and turned a nearby rabbit into a sheep. “Bah. The Kirin Tor is no better, you know.” He glared at Khadgar. “Antonidas asked me for some of my books, and he didn’t say whether or not he was going to give them back.”

“Ah, Antonidas.” Khadgar shook his head. “He was a good man.”

Medivh balked. “He dies?!”

“Everyone dies. It’s Warcraft, after all.” Khadgar looked into the distance, and then muttered a spell. No other travelers on the road. He turned to Medivh. “How are you feeling?”

The change of subject bothered Medivh a little, as if Khadgar was so used to death and sorcery that none of it held any meaning for him any more. Medivh was still insatiably curious about the futuristic magics Khadgar wielded, but more pressing was how often he thought of asking the Archmage about his own death. He pushed the impulse deep down. _‘I don’t want to know._ ’ It was an intrusive, terrible thing that choked him from within, his throat tightening and stomach becoming tense. _‘…I **do** want to know. Damn it!’_

Khadgar stepped closer and touched Medivh’s shoulder. “Guardian?”  
“WHAT?” Medivh yelped, pulling himself away. “What? I’m fine! Let’s keep going. How much further?”

“Just… along this path here, are you sure you’re okay? Something troubles you.”

“It’s your fault.” Medivh pouted, walking ahead. Khadgar followed him, concerned.

“I… I am sorry, I…”

“Rrgh!” Medivh suddenly thrust forth his left hand and unleashed an enormous blast of crackling purple energy. Khadgar nearly jumped out of his skin and stumbled as the arcane rebound fluffed his hair into a right mess.

“Jesus!” Khadgar opened his eyes wide, gawking at the mystic bolt that was rapidly lighting up the rest of the path ahead. “What on Azeroth did you do that for?”

Medivh’s arm fell limply to his side. More susceptible to impulsive, destructive castings when upset, he immediately hoped he hadn’t killed anything. His moment of aggression dissipated and he turned to Khadgar.

“Hurry up.”

Khadgar scurried along and noted that the Guardian’s moods were as mercurial as he remembered, if a little less controlled. Medivh was still a child at heart, after all. Khadgar could not see him as a hardened wizard with iron discipline. It was frightening and adorable at once.

“Your spells are quite impressive.” said Khadgar, keeping an ear out for any surprises. “Do try to conserve your energy, though.”

“Whatever.” Medivh tossed Atiesh in the air and caught it after it had spun in a perfect circle. “All we will be doing is walking, sleeping and conjuring food, right?”

“Until we get to the shore, yes. Do you know how to conjure things?”

“Of course I do!”

“Fabric? Steak? Wine?”

Medivh screwed up his face. “I don’t drink wine. And who eats fabric?”

Khadgar laughed, the sound light and pure. “Ohh, I meant to make tents and clothes. Useful things. But seriously, you _can_ conjure?”

“Watch me.” Medivh stepped off the path and pointed his staff at the ground. A flat-topped column of ice appeared and Medivh spoke a sentence of incanations. Glowing energy came together in swirls, sparks and a solid mass formed out of it all. Medivh had created a cinnamon doughnut.

“Very dramatic.” Khadgar pointed out, flicking the doughnut up with a spark of force. “Alright, I believe you. Let’s hope this won’t kill me, eh?”

“Why do you keep underestimating me?” Medivh growled, his grip turning white knuckled from how tightly he held his staff. “You think I don’t understand dough matrices and cinnamon quarks?” An errant thought struck him to curse the doughnut and make Khadgar’s body turn inside out. But it passed along with the fleeting horror that Medivh felt at even considering such a thing. Khadgar was a bit annoying, but he didn’t seem worthy of absolute torment. Medivh grasped at his hair, tugging a handful of it out to one side. Why did he keep having these thoughts, these destructive, murderous, sickening thoughts?

Khadgar tilted his head to the side, chewing on the doughnut. “Mnf, it’s not bad. No, I don’t doubt you, Guardian. I just want to be sure that I’m not imposing later on when we set up camp.”

“How considerate.” Medivh rolled his eyes and then kicked the ice pillar, shattering it into rapidly melting shards. He looked up. The sky had reddened a bit. Khadgar looked too.

“Speaking of which. Would you like to rest for now? The road splits just up ahead.”

Medivh was feeling quite defensive and wanted to challenge Khadgar, but in truth he really did not want to walk any more for today. “Fine.”

Away from the road and hidden by the trees, Khadgar first set a series of illusions along with barriers to prevent anyone from noticing they were there, magically or physically. He’d grown used to such things during his time with the Kirin Tor – they watched him, he evaded them, and did what he felt was right. Even if that included blowing up dams and torturing assassins with raw arcane force. He turned to Medivh, who was shifting around in the waist-high grass. With a bright smile on his face, Khadgar spread his arms.

“Now, then! Let’s see your tent making skills.”

Medivh raised Atiesh, his eyes glowed white, and then… he pointed at Khadgar.

“You first.”

“Me?” Khadgar chuckled softly. “Alright.” _‘He is probably nervous. Goodness, my Master was an insecure little youth… poor thing. I should probably stop teasing him.’_ Thinking on the right spell after resolving to be less of a cheeky lad, Khadgar began a minute’s worth of casting. He made a tent big enough for three people, a tall thing of canvas and wood all synthesised out of arcane energy. It had four posts and was cubic in shape, easy on the eyes with no visible entrance. Khadgar then cut a flap in the center and opened it. “There.”

“It’s big enough for both of us!” Medivh walked around the edges, observing Khadgar’s creation. He narrowed his green eyes. “You’re such a show-off.”

“Eeh, but you asked!” Khadgar threw his hands out in exasperation. Medivh only shook his head and turned away.

“I’ll make one for myself.” As he worked, Khadgar watched and made a bit of fire in his hands. Medivh’s mental state was mostly unknown to him, but Khadgar hoped his own charismatic nature would ease things along. The Guardian seemed too confident for his own good, too ready to prove himself and jump to conclusions. Khadgar hated himself for being so judgemental, but it was instinctual for him to pick up on a person’s character within the first hour of interacting with them, and solidify that opinion shortly after. Medivh, young of mind and old of body, was different to the Lord Magus Khadgar had met in his own youth. He held himself exactly like a young mage with too many expectations over his head would. Khadgar pitied him. For he himself had also felt overwhelmed when he had gone from being seventeen to seventy and had the Kirin Tor send him to war. Khadgar realized then that Medivh had finished building his tent and was staring at him.

“What are you thinking about?” asked the Guardian, nibbling his upper lip with his bottom teeth. It looked like he was trying to eat his moustache.

“Oh, nothing.” Khadgar smiled but Medivh didn’t believe it was true – it wasn’t - and sat in front of him.

“You’re lying.”

“Don’t say that.” Khadgar chided. “I’m just an innocent, airheaded Archmage. Don’t mind me.”

“Bullshit.” Medivh raised Atiesh like a baseball bat, a tricky maneuver as he was sitting cross legged and the staff was seven feet tall. “Tell me what you’re thinking or I’ll smack you in the head.”

“You wouldn’t.” Khadgar said, his voice taking on an aged, grizzly tone. “This old man has no mana to spare in defense.”

Without thinking, Medivh swished his staff towards Khadgar and met nothing but air. Khadgar had done one hell of an abdominal flex and now lay on the ground. He sat back up.

“Medivh.” He sounded more disappointed than anyone Medivh had ever heard, and the Guardian actually cringed before remembering to defend himself. No weakness and submission. That was not him.

“I don’t like being lied to.” said Medivh, turning his nose up at the glowering Archmage. “Now tell me what you were thinking about when you were looking at me as if I’d destroyed your life.”

Khadgar held his tongue to keep from speaking the truth. Medivh saw this and once more the thoughts came, _ask him, ask him, you ruined him in the future, in his past, see in his eyes how he looks at you, how much he hides?_

Silence filled the space between them, until Medivh put Atiesh down in the grass, feeling a stab of guilt.

“Don’t play games with me. Just talk already.”

Khadgar tried to smile and tell Medivh how persistent he was but all that came out was a choked squeak. He cleared his throat and looked around.

“I say, it’s about time we ate something. You were going to show me your steak skills, were you not?”

Medivh caught the redirection and he knew that Khadgar was aware of this.

 _‘He’s far too clever. I will have to be careful around him.’_ Wordlessly he rubbed his palms together and stretched a long bit of cheese out, the stuff glowing arcane-white. In a series of flamboyant gestures he’d crafted a spinning bit of meat, cooked from the inside out, and it was wrapped up in yellowish white cheese as it floated between Medivh’s hands. Khadgar conjured up a plate and put it in Medivh’s lap. The Guardian looked down, lowering his creation and feeling a twinge of gratitude. He would’ve died from embarrassment had he finished conjuring an entire meal without something to put it on. He presented the plate to Khadgar, not meeting his eyes.

“There. Steak.”

“Thank you. Shall I make something for you?” Khadgar accepted the plate and bit into the steak, holding it with his fingers like any adventurer lacking cutlery would. Medivh watched him with a calculating gaze before replying.

“Apple pie.”

“Dessert first? My goodness.” Khadgar shook his head and went to say something else, but Medivh cried out.

“Not fair! I made you what you wanted!”

“Alright, alright!” Khadgar gave in before Medivh tried to decapitate him again. “One moment.” He put his food down, regretting that he had to do so because he was quite hungry, and that was some damn good cheesy steak. Even if it was arcane energy pretending to be meat. “Dolores inferni cir’de arcana vis facere malum opus pistorium valentis.” The incantation combined with steady, practised gestures made both a plate and the three slices of apple pie Khadgar hoped would satisfy Medivh. Steam rose from the hot filling and a bit of sugar crusted the top of the pie. He placed it in front of Medivh. “There you go.”

Medivh picked up a slice and bit into it, aware of Khadgar’s eyes upon him. “It… it’s okay, I guess…” Khadgar did not respond, inhaling the rest of his cheesy steak. _‘Huh. I guess he’s hungry.’_ It did not occur to Medivh that perhaps he had succeeded in making something perfect and delicious. Why he was so concerned about what Khadgar thought of him, he did not know. He barely even recognized it, so caught up in his worries was he. It wasn’t like he had anything else to focus on. There were no imminent dangers with these illusions and barriers up, and he trusted that Khadgar’s plan would ensure this entire journey wasn’t going to be a waste of time.

Then again, he had never experienced one of Khadgar’s plans before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( for maximum keks, put Khadgar’s incantation into Google Translate and see what comes out. Ok, it says “The pains of hell secrets to do evil pastry healthy” but really was meant to be “I call upon the force of the arcane to make this pastry” LMAOOO TWISTING NETHERPIE CONFIRMED ))

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, a hundred unfinished raventrust fics... but w/e I'm archiving stuff here lol computer's gonna die soon  
> hit me up with them delicious comments pls.


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